I Aear can ven
by Meril Gamgee
Summary: As Celeborn, Elladan and Elrohir prepare to leave Middleearth, Elrohir meets a mysterious, wretched Elf. Can he convince him to come to Valinor? Reposted.


A/N: This a repost, I realised that this was placed into the wrong category, and if you have read it already, apologies. This was a sad little piece I felt inspired to do. I hope I've done the mysterious Elf as much justice as I could. The title is Sindarin for 'The Sea calls us'. Enjoy :D  
  
Círdan smiled when he saw the riders of the last three horses dismount as they followed the crowd to board one of the last of the Elven-ships to leave Middle-earth for Valinor. He placed his hand on his heart and extended it, in the traditional Elven gesture.  
  
'Lord Celeborn. Lord Elladan. Lord Elrohir. How wonderful it is to finally see you here at last.'  
  
Celeborn smiled as he embraced his old friend. 'Ah, it has been a long time, Master Círdan. When will you be coming with us?'  
  
'On the last ship, my dear Celeborn. My task is not quite over yet.'  
  
Both Círdan and Celeborn turned around when they heard the sound of two sets of hooves approach them. Celeborn looked at them and smiled, overjoyed, his lordly mask finally slipping for the first time in centuries.  
  
The man dismounted first, and then helped his queen dismount. Arwen looked at her grandfather, eyes shining with tears, her smile wide.  
  
'Daeradar,' she whispered as Celeborn gathered her in his arms.  
  
'Arwen.' He stepped back to look at her, looking as beautiful as ever, every inch the great queen she was. 'I never expected to see you again.'  
  
'I could not let you leave without saying goodbye.' A hand laid on Arwen's shoulder. She turned around just in time for both her brothers to envelop her in a bear hug. Tears ran freely down Elladan and Elrohir's cheeks.   
  
'Arwen,' Elrohir whispered, 'I didn't think you would come.'  
  
'You're my brothers, of course I would come to see you off. I need you to pass on a few messages for me.'  
  
'Of course, muinthel nin,' Elladan said.  
  
'Just...' Tears fell from Arwen's eyes. 'Tell Nana and Ada I love them.' Arwen pressed a sealed envelope into Elladan's hand. 'This is for Nana, please give it to her.'  
  
Elladan nodded. 'Of course.'  
  
'Please, tell her I'm sorry.'  
  
Elrohir took her hand. 'Arwen, don't be sorry. It was your choice to make. I would rather that you stay here and be happy with Estel than pine for him for eternity.'  
  
'I know, 'Rohir,' she replied. 'But Nana and Ada will never see my son and my daughters.'  
  
'But we will tell them,' Elladan said. 'We will tell them of how beautiful and strong they are, just like their parents.'  
  
Elladan looked to Arwen's escort, a man tall, proud and strong, his eyes grey as midnight, looking very much like the Kings of Númenor he was descended from. Elladan smiled and extended a hand.  
  
'Eldarion, come here and give your uncles a hug, for Eru's sake,' he said teasingly.  
  
Eldarion smiled. 'Nanethtor, I'll miss you. Both of you.' He embraced Elladan, then Elrohir in turn. Elrohir smiled proudly and gently ruffled Eldarion's hair like he would an Elfling, but Eldarion was long past childhood.  
  
'I'll miss you too, Thelion,' Elrohir replied. 'And your sisters. Give them a kiss from me and tell them I love them.'  
  
'I will, Nanethtor.' Eldarion was very reminiscent of his father in his tall, proud stance and he was very good at hiding his emotions, but his sad grey eyes said all he wanted to say as he looked at his uncles and his great-grandfather. Celeborn smiled as he embraced him.  
  
'You've grown into a fine man, Eldarion,' Celeborn whispered. 'And I'm sure you'll be a great king.'  
  
'I hope I will be, Daeradar,' Eldarion replied. 'I just hope I can have a long and prosperous reign like my father. May he rule for many years yet.'  
  
Celeborn smiled. 'May he rule long indeed.' He kissed his brow. 'And so may you.'  
  
Elladan and Elrohir stood to the side with their sister and said long goodbyes that none could hear. Tears were shed, and loving words whispered. As Elrohir embraced Arwen, he heard a strange sound.  
  
A beautiful, rich voice sounded above the harbour, singing a lament for the sea that Elrohir could not understand and yet could not ignore. At first he thought it was the call of the sea, but it was not. The voice grew louder and more mournful as other boats started leaving the bay, although Elrohir's boat was not due to depart for some time. Arwen looked at him.  
  
'What is it, Elrohir?'  
  
'I'll be right back.' Elrohir turned and followed the voice, treading the well-worn path towards the cliff-tops. The path twisted and turned behind grey shrubs and equally grey rocks and sloped down to the edge of the cliff. The clouds were also grey, blowing in off the sea. It looked to be rain.  
  
The voice was much clearer. Rain started to fall, yet the voice did not falter. Elrohir knew he was heading in the right direction. As he walked along the path and stood atop a rise, he finally saw it.  
  
The Elf was dressed in tattered clothing, travel-stained, a rusted sword hanging from his belt. He had not drawn it for thousands of years. He stood, looking out into the stormy sea, as grey, cold and lifeless as his eyes. His matted red hair was dampened and darkened by the rain. He cared not for himself. His song stopped as soon as he heard Elrohir approach.  
  
'Why such a sad song, brother?' Elrohir asked cautiously.  
  
The Elf paused, before replying. 'I have not learned any joyful ones,' was his simple reply, his voice holding the sadness and weariness of countless years.  
  
'Why are you not at the harbour? There are not many ships left,' Elrohir said.  
  
The Elf turned to face Elrohir. His face was covered in dirt and scratches, some of which was being washed off by the rain. There were also scars, as well as on his hands. His eyes were so full of pain and loss and shame Elrohir was deeply moved. In the back of his mind he knew who this utterly wretched man was, but he did not see it. His face was still beautiful, untouched by the ravages of time, as all Elves are. But his face was so full of anger, sadness and tiredness he looked as if an old man with the troubles of the world on his shoulders.  
  
'No ship would bear me,' he replied. 'I would not be allowed into Valinor.'  
  
'Why not?'  
  
He sighed. 'You are an inquisitive fellow, I'll give you that. Looking at you, you seem to be a high lord, well spoken and schooled. And you also seem to be part Noldorin. Surely you know who I am, or who I once was? Surely you know of the history of your people?'  
  
Elrohir nodded gravely. 'I know who you are. But surely you have tried to seek forgiveness?'  
  
'I have, but my crimes were unforgivable. I understand why. But now I am doomed to spend forever here, when my kin are leaving these shores for the Elven-home, to be left behind forever, to not see my homeland again. To live while many greater Elves died. My grandfather, my father, my brothers, my uncle, my cousins. I repented for my ill deeds long ago. But the Valar did not hear me.'  
  
The Elf took a step towards the cliff edge.   
  
'No, Maglor!'  
  
Elrohir ran to him and pulled him back, although in reality he was nowhere near the edge.  
  
'Make yourself be heard, Maglor,' Elrohir pleaded. 'Maybe the Valar will grant you their grace.'  
  
'I have tried that, my friend. I have cried to the Valar for thousands of years, before your parents were even born, and yet they have not heard me. I have pleaded with them to let me go home, yet they have not heard me. I have prayed for a way to end my suffering, yet they have not heard me. If I had their grace, I would have died many years ago.'  
  
'Why do you endure? There must be a reason for you to live.'  
  
Maglor shook his head. 'There is none. I thought maybe it was to protect my nephew, but he wanted nothing to do with me, and then he was slain. All my kin have been slain. And I have been powerless to stop it. What I helped do brought the Curse upon my people. And I am sorry.' Maglor looked at Elrohir with tears in his eyes. 'I'm so sorry.'  
  
Suddenly, Maglor drew his sword. The blade was rusted and bloodstained, the beautiful workmanship of his father and the shine of the metal long gone. Elrohir was fearful he might try to injure himself with it. Instead Maglor threw it into the sea. He then sank to his knees, tears in his eyes. Elrohir was overcome with pity, no matter what past opinion he had of him. Maglor wept, for the first time in millennia. All Elrohir could do was put his arms around him.  
  
'It's not too late, Maglor. Come with us.'  
  
'No, brother. I must stay.'  
  
Elrohir sighed. 'So be it. But I will give you a reason to live.'  
  
'What is it?'  
  
Elrohir helped Maglor to his feet, almost slipping in the mud beneath them. He turned him around to look at the docks below.  
  
'See that maiden?' Elrohir pointed. 'And the man standing next to her.'  
  
Maglor nodded. 'She is beautiful,' he breathed, 'like Lúthien come again.'  
  
Elrohir nodded. 'That is my sister and my nephew. Arwen is the queen of Gondor.'  
  
'Is that not a realm of men?'  
  
'She chose mortality. For how long she lives I cannot say. I guess that she will not be far behind her husband, and his life draws to an end. Eldarion will take the throne. He is a good man, but I fear for his safety. There is an Elven realm near to Gondor, East Lórien. There dwells all the Elves who chose to remain behind. I want you to protect Arwen and her daughters, Eldarion and their children, for as long as you live.'  
  
Maglor nodded. 'I could not find a nobler purpose. But will she accept me?'  
  
'I hope so. But I don't think you have Arwen to worry about. I believe my grandfather has met you in your darker days.'  
  
Maglor squinted in the fog from the storm. 'Is that Celeborn of Doriath?'  
  
Elrohir nodded. 'He is very protective of us. I can only hope he has mellowed. Come, Maglor.'  
  
Maglor followed Elrohir hesitantly. Finally, they arrived back at the dock as the rain stopped.  
  
'Elrohir, where have you been?' asked Celeborn. 'It is nearly time to leave.'  
  
'Sorry, Daeradar.'  
  
Frantic tears, words, embraces and kisses were exchanged between the five, soon to part forever. Círdan wandered over and said farewell to Celeborn, whom he had known for countless years. Not a dry eye was left at the dock as the last of the things was placed on the boat. Hesitantly, the Elves began boarding. Not many were left to board. Arwen and Eldarion watched stony-faced, although their eyes said it all. Celeborn, Elladan and Elrohir were among the last to climb aboard. As Elrohir waved to Arwen and Eldarion, he remembered Maglor, who had stayed in the shadows to avoid Celeborn. He quickly ran back off the boat to his sister.  
  
'Arwen, there is an Elf waiting to escort you back to Minas Tirith. His name is Maglor. He will protect you and your children for as long as they live.'  
  
'How will I find him?'  
  
'He will find you. I have to go.'  
  
Arwen embraced him tightly, tears falling from her eyes. She kissed him.  
  
'Melon le.'  
  
'Melon le,' Elrohir replied, and ran back, reluctantly letting go of her hand. The sun was out again, the rain clouds disappearing. Eldarion comforted his mother, waving until the ship was out of sight. Elladan, Elrohir and Celeborn waved back until they could not sight land any more. But the last person that Elrohir looked at while he was waving was not Arwen. It was Maglor. He wiped his tears and hoped his family would be all right. He also hoped that Maglor had found his salvation. Middle-earth was in safe hands.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Daeradar - Grandfather  
  
Muinthel nin - My sister  
  
Nanethtor - Mother-brother  
  
Thelion - Sister-son  
  
Melon le - I love you 


End file.
